


Souls Among The Stars

by Hollibella_Short



Category: Pride (2014)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Best Friends, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Clubbing, Emotional Hurt, Friendship, Gardens & Gardening, Grief/Mourning, HIV/AIDS, Illnesses, M/M, Marmike - Freeform, Memories, Minor Injuries, Terminal Illnesses, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-02 14:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4063414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollibella_Short/pseuds/Hollibella_Short
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pits and Perverts benefit concert was a night to be remembered but for some members of LGSM it was truly life-changing and not in a good way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely Chele who can be found at accringtonsodomite.tumblr.com who was the winner of the Pride category of my tumblr awards (bakerstreetbeatles.tumblr.com & pietroakaspeedy.tumblr.com). She asked for Marmike angst... so get the tissues ready! This will be a two-shot. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter written in the next couple of days.

The night of the Pits and Perverts benefit concert was magical. Mark owned the stage during his speeches and for one glorious evening the gays and the straights, and as Mark said the undecided, were united. For one night it didn’t matter whether you liked guys or girls. It didn’t matter for the first time in most of LGSM’s lives. The atmosphere was electric and everyone was drowning in the music and the alcohol. The straights danced with the gays and their friends from Dulais were having a ball. It had been the first time out in London for most of the Welsh folk and they were certainly making the most of it. Mike watched Mark in awe as he spoke to the giant crowd. He was unable to take his eyes off the Irishman. Mark’s eyes were alive and sparkling with an infectious energy which grew from his uncontainable excitement. The light was dancing off his earring and lit up the natural brown highlights in his hair. In that moment Mike had never felt so in love with the bundle of energy that was Mark Ashton. Mark was capable of achieving anything he set his brilliant mind to. Even if Mike tried to gently dissuade him from the more spectacular plans, Mark always got it done.

Once the band started to play Mark had jumped down from the stage to join Mike on the dance floor. They let the music guide their bodies as they moved in time to the beat of the drum machine. Mike’s breath caught in his throat as he felt Mark’s body move against his. Heat radiated between the two men and Mike could have sworn he felt Mark’s lips brush against his neck. His head was spinning, although that might have been from the alcohol. He let his eyes flutter shut and he was lost in the moment; one fantastic moment of joy and the feeling of belonging. One song blurred into another and Mike lost track of how long he was dancing in the warm embrace of his best friend. His heart ached as he thought of the word ‘friend’. He desperately wished that he could use another word to describe Mark; boyfriend perhaps. He let out a sigh and Mark pulled back to look at him with a questioning look in his eyes. Mike gave him a reassuring smile that he knew didn’t quite reached his eyes. Mike had forgotten how long he’d been pining over his best friend. He’d just come to accept the feelings now. They wouldn’t be fading anytime soon. Mark offered to go get them some drinks from the bar which Mike enthusiastically accepted. His throat felt dry from the smoky room and he needed some space from the Irishman to clear his head.

Mike took a moment to scan the room. Jeff was happily chatting with Steph at the bar, although Mike noticed how frequently the blond looked over in Joe’s direction. Joe had come out of his shell; he was glowing with excitement as he circled the dance floor with a big grin on his face and taking pictures on his camera. Mike looked over to the merchandise stall by the doorway. Even though the party was in full swing there were still a few people queueing for t-shirts and badges. Mike could see a stack of empty boxes behind the makeshift counter; an indication as to the success of the night so far. Mike couldn’t help but smile fondly. Mark would be so proud when he realised.

Soon enough Mark returned with their drinks; two pints of ice cold beer. Mike thanked him and offered to give him the money but Mark refused. They moved to the side of the room so they could drink the pints away from the crowd. Mike let out a long breath as he felt the icy liquid flow through his body to his stomach. The taste was bitter but refreshing. It made a change from the sweaty air around them. They chatted a while about the event as they enjoyed their drinks. Mike noticed that Mark’s voice was getting increasingly slurred as the night went on. Eventually, Mike felt Mark’s head resting on his shoulder. He smiled and he felt his heartbeat quicken. For a moment he could pretend that they were more than just best friends. He turned and kissed Mark’s soft brown hair. He heard Mark mumble something but it was lost in the music.

Knowing that Mark would have to make an ending speech as the event drew to a close, Mike dutifully fetched a glass of water for them both and dragged the slightly inebriated Irishman to the bar to sit down for a while. He was chattering away about some new plan to raise money. Mike thought he heard the words ‘drag competition’ and ‘Dulais’. He chuckled at the thought of some of miners in drag. Dai would probably give it a go even if it was just to show solidarity. He wasn’t so sure about the others. Hefina and the girls on the committee would certainly get a giggle out of it. Mike hoped Mark would forget about that particular idea by morning though. It would do more damage than good he thought. They were already unsure whether they’d be allowed to raise any more money for the miners after tonight due to their being gay and all.

As they sat down at the bar next to Jeff and Steph, who was still avoiding Zoe and Stella, Mark grabbed Mike’s shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. Mike faintly heard the other two whooping behind him but he was soon lost in the feeling of Mark’s lips against his. His heart was racing a million miles an hour as he felt Mark’s tongue brush against his lower lip. He gladly parted his lips and let Mark deepen the kiss. Their tongues stroked against each other and Mike could taste the alcohol on Mark’s breath. Too soon Mike had to pull back for air. He was panting slightly and his head was spinning again although this time he was certain that it wasn’t the alcohol. Mark fell forward slightly into Mike’s lap and rested his head on Mike’s shoulder once more. Mike could feel his cheeks heat burning as he sat for a moment in a happy daze.

When he finally came back to the loud and sweaty electric ballroom, Jeff and Steph had buggered off. He glanced around quickly but he saw no sign of them. He decided they must have gotten lost within the crowd on the dance floor. Further down the bar, a brunet looked like he was chatting up their official photography. Joe had flushed a deep red and was clearly flattered by the attention. Mike felt a little sorry for Jeff but the blond should have made a move sooner. Mike turned his attention back to the drunk Irishman next to him. He had linked his fingers with Mike’s and was singing softly along with the music. Mike’s could feel his heart still pounding in his chest from the unexpected kiss. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d been happier.

Soon enough the evening wound down and a slightly less inebriated Mark Ashton took to the stage for a final time. Mike watched proudly as Mark thanked everyone for coming and both he and Dai spoke of the friendship between LGSM and the people of Dulais. They shook hands and slowly the crowd started to dissipate and the music slowly faded away. Hefina and Gail insisted that the party continued though. So the members of LGSM, minus a certain photographer, faithfully led their friends through all their favourite party spots around London. The shrieks of the women could be heard from a block away and the bouncers of the clubs really didn’t know what to think of the excited Welsh ladies. Mike stayed close to Mark for the rest of the evening. They were often seen holding hands between clubs or dancing close together. Occasionally they would just stay outside together and share a cigarette. Those were Mike’s favourite moments. He felt a calmness come upon him as the smoke filled his lungs and he enjoyed watching the end of the cigarette glow a bright orange as Mark inhaled deeply. They both were more mesmerised than usual by the patterns that the smoke made in the cold air.

The mood was shattered going into one the clubs. They were almost through the door when Mike heard a man calling Mark’s name. Mark obviously recognised the man; called Tim apparently. Mike was shooed inside as the Irishman stayed behind to talk to the stranger. Mike felt his heart sink as he went inside the club alone. He wondered who the man was. He felt a strange pain in his chest as he pondered on Tim’s relationship with Mark. From the way he said Mark’s name Mike assumed they had once been lovers. A surge of jealousy swept over him and he had to resist punching the wall. He saw Jeff looking at him in pity. Mike was pretty sure Jeff was feeling the same thing. He’d been sulking ever since Joe had disappeared. Steph, less than helpfully, pointed out that Joe had last been seen snogging some attractive young man. Jeff had muttered something about that being illegal because Joe was underage. Still at least their Welsh friends were having a good time. They delighted in questioning the bar staff in every club. At least they were becoming more aware of the gay community; fighting back the horrendous stereotypes that the media tried to sell. Mike sat at the bar with a whiskey. It wasn’t his preferred drink but he suddenly craved something a bit stronger. He winced slightly as the liquid burned his throat. He looked disgusted at the glass wondering how people liked the stuff. He glanced back at the door every so often to check to see if Mark had made an entrance yet. On the third look he was rewarded by the sight of the Irishman walking towards him.

Mark looked perplexed. That was the only way to describe it. He was suddenly deep in thought and Mike gave him a questioning look. Upon meeting Mike’s eyes all concern fell from Mark’s face and he gave his friend a dazzling smile. Mike couldn’t help but smile back. Mark’s happiness was truly infectious to the Englishman. The rest of the evening went smoothly but Mike couldn’t help but noticed that Mark’s energy had fallen since the encounter with Tim. He held Mike’s hand a little tighter than before and quite frequently planted a kiss on Mike’s cheek. Mike blushed a little every time. Mark never kissed him on the lips again though and Mike couldn’t help but wonder why.

* * *

 

Mike sighed to himself softly as the memory faded into the cold Welsh air. His breath clouded in front of him in a swirling mist. Of course he knew now why Mark didn’t kiss him on the lips after that moment. Tim had been on what he called ‘a farewell tour’. Mark wasn’t stupid. He knew what that meant and he knew what that could mean for himself. Tim had been ill. The dreaded illness had claimed another victim from the gay community. Mike closed his eyes tightly and counted to ten. He let out a deep breath and attempted to calm his rage. Life wasn’t fair and neither was death. He hugged his coat round him and looked out forlornly at the rolling hills of the Welsh countryside. He remembered walking along these trails the first time they had visited Dulais. Cliff had shown them around the old castle ruins as he recited poetry. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. Mark had been the only person that was convinced a union between the gays and the miners would work. He had, of course, been right.

Mike brushed his hands through the grass. He felt at home amongst the hills in the rural landscape. He was closer to nature this way. He’d always been fond of gardening and it helped him to relax. When Mark had been in hospital he’d started a small gardening plot in the back of the flat they had shared. Mike chatted quite animatedly about the progress of the plants and in the last few days in had been able to bring in photographs of the small shoots that were beginning to poke through the earth. Mike had hoped he would be able to bring in a bunch of the flowers grown from his garden when they were ready but unfortunately that was never to be. Mark had passed away soon after the shoots had appeared. They hadn’t let Mike see him the day Mark died. Instead he’d sat in the waiting room with Gethin. The others had visited throughout the week but Gethin had been there almost as frequently as Mike had. He didn’t cry when he heard the news. He sat in the cold, hard plastic chair in the waiting room and stared at the wall. Mike didn’t know how long he sat there for but he was snapped out of his daze by Joe who handed him a carefully wrapped sandwich and a flask of tea. He took the items and walked out of the hospital in a foggy haze.

He’d worked in his garden all night.  Steph had found him the next morning passed out and covered in dark soil from head to toe. She’d taken him inside and pushed him towards the shower. Finally he’d been able to cry. As the hot water flowed over his body and he watched the dirt wash down the drain, his legs gave way and he fell onto the cold tiles. The soapy water was mixed with the salty tears that were streaming down his cheeks. He heard Steph’s concerned voice shouting through the door. He was barely able to let out a choked noise to let her know he was ok. He felt a sharp stinging sensation in his knees and as he looked down he saw a trace of blood swirling in the water. His knees had been damaged when he fell. His chest felt tight and he struggled to breathe properly as the grief overwhelmed him. He was both mentally and physically exhausted from the last few weeks. Steph had almost been about to break down the bathroom door when Mike had finally emerged. His knees had already started to bruise but the bleeding had stopped. He had noticed Steph looking at his knees but she said nothing. She helped him get ready for bed before crashing on the sofa. He had been grateful that she stayed.

He dreamt that night of Mark. The Irishman was helping him in his garden and questioning Mike about what the different flowers meant. The flowers grew fast in his dream and soon bloomed into daffodils. Mike was momentarily confused because he had been sure that he had planted poppies but somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he was dreaming. When the daffodils were fully grown Mark helped to pick them and the two men sat laughing as they weaved the flowers into a grown. Mark looked like an angel in his golden daffodil crown. It had been a pleasant dream and one that Mike still thought fondly of. He’d written it down in a notebook the next morning along with a rough drawing of Mark in his crown of daffodils. He smiled a little as he watched the sun begin to set behind the Welsh hills. Daffodils were the national flower of Wales so it made sense that he had dreamt of them. Mark had finally found a family in the small Welsh village of Dulais. As the sunlight faded and the red and blue sky transformed into a deep purple, Mike heard his name being called. Margaret was walking up the trail behind him; wrapped up in a thick coat with a matching set of gloves, scarf and hat. In her arms she carried an extra pair of gloves and a scarf. Mike gladly took the woolly items and the pair walked back towards the village together in silence; preparing themselves for the challenges that tomorrow would bring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LGSM and the Village of Dulais say their final farewells to Mark Ashton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so this is finished! I hope you like it. Sorry for the sadness. I'm still a little drowsy from a recent operation on my wisdom teeth so apologies for any mistakes. If you point them out I'll change them :)

Mike stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of Dai and Margaret’s house. He’d not slept well the night before and it showed. If he was totally honest with himself he hadn't slept well in months. He hoped that once his friend was laid peacefully to rest that he himself would be granted some much needed sleep. His face was pale, a dusty grey colour, and he had dark circles around his eyes. His normally bright irises had faded to dull and were constantly red around the edges. Mike splashed some icy water on his face in an attempt to wash away the tears from last night’s bad dreams. The tear stains on Mike’s cheek disappeared down the drain with the water but he still looked dreadful. Mike didn't know how long he was staring into the small bathroom mirror but it must have been longer than he thought as he was snapped back to earth by a gentle knock on the door. He heard Margaret call his name through the wooden door. She sounded concerned and he felt a pang of guilt for worrying her. He called back that he was fine and would be down in a minute. The Englishman checked his watched and cursed as he realised he was late. His morning self-pity would have to wait until the next day. He quickly brushed his hair and straightened his tie and glasses. Mike thought he looked ridiculous without his signature beanie hat and stuffed into the too big suit. He was not meant for formal wear. He sighed to himself and went to meet his friends downstairs.

As Mike reached the bottom of the stairs, he was handed a flask of tea and a biscuit from Dai’s ever-caring wife. He didn't feel hungry at all but he dutifully nibbled at the sugary treat before they all hurried out the house to join the rest of their friends at the town hall. Everyone looked sombre in the black formal outfits as they trudged up the Welsh hill towards the castle. Steph had even made an effort to cover her brightly covered hair. She wore a smart black hat over the orange locks which looked unusually tamed today. Jonathan and Gethin were the only two members of LGSM that looked comfortable in their suits. Mike guessed that this was not the first funeral that the two men had been to recently, probably not even the second. That meant they had spent a little more money on their attire, probably aided by the fact they’d had more years to save up for a nicer suit. The former gay libber’s were holding hands tightly as they made their way up the muddy path; carefully avoiding the puddles. Zoe and Stella walked near the front of the travelling party. Their long onyx dresses floated in the wind; they were a picture of grace and beauty. Mike thought that they looked like angels of death as they led the party onwards towards the castle.

Jeff was closely following the young baker and the two blonds were helping each other navigate the dirt path. Mike noticed on several occasions Jeff’s hand lingered a little too long of Joe’s arm after he’d hopped over a puddle. Mike couldn't help the wave of jealousy that flooded over him as he watched the two younger men interact. They’d grown closer since Mark’s death as they had been there to comfort each other. It wasn’t fair; Mike had never had the chance to have that with Mark. He tried to shake that thought from his head. He knew that the jealousy was making his thoughts irrational and the two boys probably hadn’t even realised they were displaying so many gestures of affection.

Mike looked over at the Welshmen who had decided to join them. Many of the men and women had not liked Mark when LGSM had first arrived. He didn't even recognise some of the faces in the crowd. They had watched Mark with distaste as he had tried to light-heartedly introduce LGSM. They had voted against accepting any more money from the group in favour of going back to work in the mines purely because they didn't want to be supported by gays. Yet they were here today, walking up the hill to pay their respects to the great man that was Mark Ashton. His death had united them. However, Mike couldn't help but feel a little pessimistic about the true reason behind their presence today. He suspected that the majority of the miners, especially those who had barely spoken to Mark, were attending so they appeared to seem thankful for all the hard work Mark had done for their community. It was probably a way of dampening their guilt for their actions. He doubted that anyone of them actually cared for the Irishman. Mike tried to push away his bitterness. This service was supposed to be for those who had loved Mark Ashton; not a tool for dispersing guilt. He glared accusingly at the nearest unknown face in the crowd. The older man shrunk back slightly and turned to talk to a nearby friend. Mike felt a hand on his shoulder and he spun round to find Jonathan looking down at him. Jonathan told him to ignore the fakers and remember the solidarity that Mark had stood for. It wasn't much but it was a slight comfort to Mike. Mark would probably have made some crazy joke about the people who had hated him in life; something about finally converting them. Mike chuckled quietly to himself. He tried to ignore the questioning looks from Steph and Gail who were closest to him. Jonathan just smiled and fell back once more to be with Gethin.

Mike glanced briefly at the small Welshman. Gethin looked almost as exhausted as he did. He was gripping Jonathan’s hand tightly and, even though Jonathan was clearly in good health, Gethin’s eyes were full of worry and his face looked gaunt. The long days had affected Gethin badly. Jonathan had snuck in to see Mark whenever Gethin was asleep. He knew that his lover would panic too much if he had known that he was visiting Mark. Mike hated to see how Mark’s illness had hurt the older couple. It had almost torn them apart at the seams but they had made it through the rough times and had both come out the other side alive; which is more than could be said about Mark.

A sharp pain shot through Mike’s chest. He gripped onto Steph’s arm to prevent him from falling as his legs gave way and the flask of tea dropped from his hand. He wasn't ready to say goodbye. He faintly heard his voice saying that repeatedly as the world began to spin. Mark wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Mark was the most alive and vibrant person he knew. A crowd of black began to circle him as he was lowered slowly onto the path. He thought he heard Jonathan’s voice saying his name, or was it Jeff’s voice? It didn't matter to Mike. It wasn't Mark’s voice that was calling him. Suddenly Mike felt his breathing become short as he struggled to gasp for oxygen. He grasped at his tie and tried to yank it off but he only managed to tighten the knot. The voices around him faded to a quiet hum as his vision blurred. Finally his throat was free from the constricting fabric and he sucked in a huge gulp of air. Mike heard a sob and it took him a moment to realise he was crying. He looked down at his mud-covered hands; they were shaking. Margaret had managed to retrieve the tea flask and poured out a small cup. He smiled and took the tea carefully; trying not to spill the scolding liquid.  From her bag Margaret produced a packet of chocolate biscuits and she insisted that he ate one; something about the sugar would do him good. Mike mumbled an apology to the group as he ate the biscuit. His friends waited patiently for him to feel ok again. Soon enough his legs began to regain their strength and with the help of Ray and Reggie he was able to continue up the path to the castle. He heard some of the older Welshmen complaining about his episode but Cliff quickly shot them down; telling them to return to the village if they didn't want to be there. To his surprise nobody left.

It wasn't a real funeral. Mark’s family had held a small one back in Ireland for him. Mark’s parents had blissfully ignored their son’s sexuality and all the work he had done whilst he lived in London. So Mike had decided to organise a sort of funeral in Dulais for all Mark’s friends to say goodbye. They were going to light candles around the Welsh castle and everyone who wanted to say something about Mark would have a chance. Slowly the group made their way around the castle, placing tea-lights on the cold grey stone. Every time Mike lit a candle he said a small prayer for Mark. He wasn't a religious man but for some reason, on that day, he wanted to believe in heaven. There was total silence until the last candle was lit and the castle glowed brightly against the Welsh countryside. Some of the older miner’s only lit one candle each and then waited as they watched the others work. Cliff was the one to break the eerie silence.

_‘And death shall have no dominion._  
_Dead man naked they shall be one_  
 _With the man in the wind and the west moon;_  
 _When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,_  
 _They shall have stars at elbow and foot;_  
 _Though they go mad they shall be sane,_  
 _Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;_  
 _Though lovers be lost love shall not;_  
 _And death shall have no dominion._  
  
_And death shall have no dominion._  
 _Under the windings of the sea_  
 _They lying long shall not die windily;_  
 _Twisting on racks when sinews give way,_  
 _Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;_  
 _Faith in their hands shall snap in two,_  
 _And the unicorn evils run them through;_  
 _Split all ends up they shan't crack;_  
 _And death shall have no dominion._  
  
_And death shall have no dominion._  
 _No more may gulls cry at their ears_  
 _Or waves break loud on the seashores;_  
 _Where blew a flower may a flower no more_  
 _Lift its head to the blows of the rain;_  
 _Though they be mad and dead as nails,_  
 _Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;_  
 _Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,_  
 _And death shall have no dominion._ ’*

Cliff’s old course voice wavered only once as he recited the words of Dylan Thomas. Mike found himself sitting down on the thick green grass as he had done the night before. He let his fingers weave through the blades and he felt the dirt behind his nails as Cliff’s soothing tone filled the air. There was not a dry eye in the castle when the poem reached its end. Cliff quietly said goodbye to Mark and sat down with the others on the stone wall. One by one the members of LGSM said their goodbyes to the Irishman. Jeff left a rainbow scarf by the castle that he had knitted along with a daffodil. Joe left a box of choux pastry and a photograph of LGSM after their first visit to Dulais then went to join Jeff. The two blonds huddled together on the grass and Mike noticed their hands were entwined. Steph laid down an old Bananarama vinyl and a small box of earrings. Jonathan and Gethin said a few words about the importance of awareness about Mark’s illness and they praised him for his work for gay rights. Jonathan had drawn a picture of Mark smiling and Gethin had written a small paragraph in Welsh below. Dai later told Mike that the Welsh had said how much Mark would be missed by all. Dai and the committee hung up the Dulais Valley flag in an archway of the castle; carefully minding the flames. It waved gently in the wind and Mike felt a tear roll down his cheek as he gazed at the two hands shaking firmly. When it was his turn to speak Mike talked about the progress of his garden back in London. He spoke about the meaning of the different flowers he had planted. The daffodil was a symbol of chivalry; something Mark had shown an abundance of.  The yellow tulip was a sign of hopeless love. Mike’s cheeks turned pink as he admitted that. He’d never told Mark the truth about that flower. He said that the yellow tulip meant loyalty. He placed photographs of each flower in the growing pile of tributes and gifts. He had brought two real flowers with him from the garden; a forget-me-not and a white lily. Mark would be remembered.

Eventually the sun began to fade behind the mountain. Angharad, the woman who had originally started the anthem in the town hall so long ago, began to sing once more. Her voice rang out over the mountains. This time LGSM joined in with the choir of Welsh voices and they sang until tears streamed down their faces. The soft harmony filled the air and the small candles burnt brightly around the castle on the hill. It was truly a gorgeous sight and a fitting goodbye for a beautiful soul. Mark’s soul was now among the stars that were beginning shine above them in the dark sky. Cold and emotionally exhausted the mourners made their way back down to the village.

That night Mike slept peacefully in the small bed in Wales. His dreams were happy memories of the man he would always love deep down in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Poem is 'And Death Shall Have No Dominion' - Dylan Thomas  
> I chose the name Angharad as she was given no name in the film. Quite a few of my Welsh friends have this name and I think it's pretty.


End file.
